


Perserverence

by Alys_Gay_Parade



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Abandonment, Corruption, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gaslighting, Gen, Manipulation, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 08:27:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22353226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alys_Gay_Parade/pseuds/Alys_Gay_Parade
Summary: What is truth and what is an excuse? What is joy and what is fear? What is love and what is lust? What do you really want, Stanford Pines?
Relationships: Bill Cipher/Ford Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket/Ford Pines, Ford Pines & Stan Pines
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm warning everybody going in, things will get heavy. This is a One of Us AU fic, and it's aiming for one of the hardest hitting things I have ever written.
> 
> If a chapter has things that really need warnings, I'll put it up here. And let me know if I miss anything you think needs to be tagged.
> 
> Not trying to trigger anybody here. Just writing some heavy angst.

**_You'd fit right in with my freaks!_ **

Ford looked to Dipper, and a pain rang through his chest. Bill had won. There was no hope. No reason to keep trying. Nothing he could do could protect the only people he cared for.

“I'm waiting on an answer, Fordsie!”

The condescending tone in Bill's voice ripped into the core of Stanford Pines. He locked eyes with Dipper, knowing full well what this next move would do to the poor boy.

“I only ask. One thing of you in return.” The words felt bitter on his lips, a contract he was being forced into.

“Anything at all, Fordsie. Of all the useless meatbags in this world, _you are by far my favorite_.”

God, he knew just how to sink his claws into Ford. He knew how to toy with him, to make him weak. But he wasn't going to let it hurt. Not now.

“Just keep them safe.” His voice was no more than a whisper. “My family. Our loved ones. Keep them safe. Keep them alive. Keep them happy.”

Ford felt a sharp twinge throughout his body as he was engulfed in light. Bill was granting him immortality. Maybe even a less than human form. Abilities that he had no ideas on how to begin using. Through the aura surrounding him, he caught a glimpse of Dipper's wide eyes. A look of despair. Of betrayal. He would have to explain to them his reasoning at some point. But that probably wouldn't be for a long while.

Ford was finally released from the magic that bound him, floating of his own accord. He could feel his right eye bleeding. He could feel an emptiness forming in his chest. The multicolored sky loomed down, the rift mocking him. But strangely, he didn't feel. Not a single thing. Maybe Bill had removed his heart as well.

Or so he thought. Emotions welled up gently again as Dipper went fleeing toward the shack. And soon enough, Ford was being placed on the dashboard of whatever car Bill customized magically to his liking.

“Chin up, Six-fingers. They'll be safe, even if they go looking for trouble.”

Ford had no response. He just stared into his hands. He hadn't changed much, physically. He could only assume that his eyes were no longer human. It was apparent that Bill had given him a more fitting wardrobe for the party he would be holding.

“Relax, have some time punch!”

Ford took the cup from his new partner in crime. The liquid inside was iridescent. It smelled sweet. One sip filled him with more good feelings than his entire canteen of whiskey, of which he promptly mixed some in.

Another sip. He felt comfortable. This was his home now. He had to mingle. But he could muster up no more than one word responses and dead end small talk.

“How ya feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Music's great!”

“Loud.”

“What are you gonna do first?”

Ford left the conversation. He found his way back to Bill. It was always back to Bill.

“Ford, what's wrong?”

 _Don't you feign concern for me._ “Not much of a party person.”

“Ah, I see,” Ford shuddered at Bill getting down to his level and placing a hand on his shoulder. “You much prefer the intimacy of silence. An intellectual like yourself cannot function in an environment like this.”

Ford wanted so bad to summon some sort of power straight into Bill's eye. The demon moved them to the penthouse suite of the fearamid. Ford only gazed out the window, sitting lazily in the sill.

“Tell me, IQ. What's happening in that head of yours?”

“What, you can't read it?” Ford's words were spat with venom. He hated every part of this. He would give anything for the people he loves to not see this. To not see him. He was sure they'd understand – unable to save the universe, he chooses to protect who he cares about.

“Hey, you know what I think your first act as one of us should be?!” Ford's silence was taken as a cue to keep speaking.  
“Let's make a stasis bubble. You can put whoever you please into it.” Ford looked over as Bill snapped his fingers, Mabel now caught in one of said bubbles. “I've already got shooting star. Any time you see somebody you want to protect? Just stick them in here. It will meld all of their personalities into a proper utopia. A place they can reside in peace, unaware of the dangers out here.”

Ford looked to his niece. Her expression was a smile. Whatever dream world in the bubble keeping her content.

It would be nice. He could visit them. They would be unaware. _Safe_.

“I suppose that would ease my concerns.” Ford turned his gaze back to the forest below. “I would like to hunt them down myself, though. It would be… better for them if I were the sight they see.”

“Alright! Now we're talking! Hey, let's do a run around town to do some sprucing up, huh?”

Ford didn't think he would meet Dipper so soon. And not like this. He ran into the group as Gideon was readying to betray Bill. The demon wasn't pleased. But Gideon was just a child. A stupid, arrogant, ignorant child.

“You little pork roast, I will roast you from the inside and then devour you!”

“Ease up, Bill. He is just a kid. He has much to learn.” Just by Dipper's terrified eyes, Ford could tell he didn't trust him. He watched Wendy place the boy behind her, ready to fight. “Lower the axe, Wendy. I'm not here to hurt you. I promise.”

She didn't allow him too close without swinging. Ford felt a tendril shoot out from his fingertip, gently holding her axe in place. He watched tears fall from Dippers eyes as he floated down to them. A gentle placement of the hand on their heads was all he needed to usher them into slumber. He encased them in their own bubbles, watching them float off to join Mabel in peace.

He next encountered Fiddleford, hiding in a hollowed out tree. Thankfully, Ford was unaccompanied. He stepped over to the log and held out a hand. “Fiddleford, darling.”

“Wha- Stanford?”

God, he had longed to hear that voice for decades. Of all the people he missed, Fiddleford hurt the worst. “Come out. Let's get you safe.” Feeling the southerner's skin against his own sent Ford's mind racing. Touch starvation is what it’s called. The yearning for physical contact.

He gently caressed Fiddleford’s cheek, the soft kiss he planted to the older man's forehead enveloping him in his unconscious safety net.

_Stan._

He'd not forgotten about his twin. Stan could see from Ford's face that something wasn't quite right.

“Ford.”

“Stanley.”

“This is somehow your fault.”

Ford paid no mind to the venom in his brother's tone. He spotted others that he knew his family cared for. Walking down the line, he shrouded the children in sleep, their bubbles carrying them out the door to their destination.

“What are you doing?”

“Stanley. I need you to trust me.”

“You've given me literally no reason to. What's with these weird voodoo powers? Why is your eye all fucked up like that?” Ford turned, not noticing the distortion happening to that portion of his face.

“I'm just keeping you all safe, Stan. Please, work with me.” Ford backed Stan to the wall, gently placing his thumb between his twin's eyes. “I love you. All of you. I will see you soon.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for torture and implied noncon elements.

Ford sat at the table with his family, smiling and laughing over their breakfast. Mabel had catapulted a wad of scrambled eggs at her brother, prompting an all out war between the two. He looked over at his own twin with a smile, a comfort deeply rooted in his chest.

“So, what's on your agenda today, Stanley?”

Stan leaned back in his chair with a loud yawn, the front two legs leaving the ground momentarily. “I dunno. Probably run tours, close early around two, take the kids fishing. You are welcome to join us, if ya want.”

Ford let his smile spread across his face before being rudely interrupted from his fantasy.

**_“Hey, Chief! Don't get stuck in your own bubble! We got work to do!”_ **

Ford sighed, a frown falling onto his face. “I would love to, but I have some very important research to be doing. I'll probably bee deep in the woods until midnight or so.” He picked at his eggs and felt a small hand on his.

“Grunkle Ford?” Mabel's voice drew him from his thoughts, and he tried to hide the uncertainty in his eyes. “You work too hard. You need to take a break.”

“I concur!” Fiddleford walked into the room, draping his arms over Ford's shoulders. “Sug, you really need to relax. How about, when you get home…” The things whispered into Ford's ear elicited a harsh blush and an embarrassed laugh.

“Fiddleford, the kids are right there!”

“Oh, they have the internet.”

_**“Now, Stanford. We have to talk about taking my chaos global!”** _

Ford let his smile falter slightly, forcing it to stay on his face. “Really, I'm already a bit late to time sensitive research.” He stood, unloading his food onto Mabel's plate for her human garbage disposal powers, ruffled the kids, hugged his twin, and gave Fiddleford a peck on the cheek.

The juxtaposition between his little fantasy and the chaos happening outside slapped him across the face. There was no hope left for humanity, as soon as that barrier came down. Bill was waiting for him, floating by the exit to the bubble as Ford relocked it.

“Ugh. Family, am I right, Sixer?”

“Just because you destroyed every meaningful relationship you've ever had doesn't mean I have to do the same, Cipher.”

“Oh, ouch, okay.” Ford was unable to turn around before Bill grabbed him, yanking him up to the one eye that still haunted Ford's nightmares. He tried to stretch away from the finger that gently ruffled his hair, to no avail. “You're the only meaningful relationship I've ever had, Ford. I haven't destroyed that.”

“If that's what you believe, you are incredibly naïve.”

“That isn't what you were saying last night, _smart guy_.”

Ford shuddered. Did part of him enjoy the total control Bill had over him sometimes? He would never admit it, but yes. And last night in the penthouse had certainly solidified that.

“Come on, say it…!”

“I do… enjoy your dominance, sir.” Ford felt limp in Bill's hold, wanting so badly to just go back into the bubble and go back to sleep. Bill always did this. Always made him feel even the least bit important, just to keep him chained.

“Still thinking about Glasses in there? You know he can't satisfy you like I can.”

Ford felt tears leaking down his cheeks. The worst part was that Bill had a point. Some of Ford's deepest fantasies just couldn't be replicated by a human.

“You are… absolutely right.” Ford cleared his throat, looking for a way to end the uncomfortable conflict. “You wanted to see me about globalization, sir?”

“Oh, right, I almost forgot!” Ford was released from Bill's vice grip as he floated a ways away, allowing him to breathe. “Today, you officially become one of us!”

“I wasn't already, sir?” Ford shook his head. Why did he sound disappointed about it? He never wanted this.

“You were an honorary henchmaniac, Stanford. But now you get to prove yourself.”

Ford floated in front of a terrified child. A tourist, in the wrong place at the wrong time. A pity.

“Little brat bit me. Make him pay.”

“Bill, sir. He's just a child-" Ford felt a distinct fear at the way Bill looked at him. A piercing, one-eyed glare deep into Ford's soul.

“You agreed to be on my side, Sixer. This is part of it. Unless you want your family without protection?”

Bill's tone made Ford's limbs go cold, and he turned his gaze to the child, crying for his mother.

“Of course, sir. I forget myself, my apologies.” Ford wondered how he would make this as painless for the child as possible. He could always turn the kid to stone. Or put him into a deep sleep? Perhaps-

“I want you to hurt him, Sixer. I want to watch him suffer.”

“For a bite, sir?”

“You’re the only one allowed to bite me, Fordsie.”

Ford looked back to the child, avoiding eye contact as he wrapped a tendril around each limb. Arms. Legs. Torso. Neck.

“Oh! That one where they pull the body into pieces, I love that one!”

Ford closed his eyes before beginning the process, trying to block out the screams.

“Slower, Ford, I want to drag this out!”

Ford wanted to sob. To cry. Anything. But he couldn't manage it. The screaming eventually subsided, the body in his tendrils lifeless.  
Ford felt nothing.

“Great job, _Fordsie_.”

Bill purring his pet name sent shivers down his spine. God, did the demon get off on that? Watching the most innocent lives suffer?

And why was Ford unfazed? Why did he not drop to his knees crying?

“You're becoming less and less human by the day, Braniac.”

Ford turned to face his partner, an overlay of many eyes distorting the upper half of his face. He felt like he wasn't human.

“I appreciate the praise, sir.”

“Of course you do! Now let's get this barrier down so you can knock over your first skyscraper!”

“Of course, sir.”

Shattering glass. Screams of thousands. No doubt, the sounds that only come in the wake of mass suffering. But watching that building fall filled Ford with something terrifying. It filled him with a dreaded sense of satisfaction.

Watching the explosion dissipate, the embers and debris falling to the streets below. Ford felt… at ease.

“Wow, I'm impressed, Stanford!” The praise shot through Ford like electricity, lighting every nerve on fire. “I didn't think you'd have it in you on the first pass. Boy, I was sure wrong .”

Ford felt one of Bill's tendrils work its way up his back, gently wrapping over his throat.

“You deserve a prize, _Smart Guy_.”

God, the way the term was purred brought out sweat beading on Ford's skin and a heat to his face.

“That… would be much appreciated, sir.” His breathing was uneven, his body trembling.

“Go ahead, Sixer. Ask me.”

Ford relaxed into Bill's grip, a nauseating feeling welling in his gut.

“I want you to do as you wish, sir. I only ask that I'm home on time."

Ford unlocked the door to the shack, still sore from his activities. It was late. Much later than he had intended. The moon loomed overhead, the inside of the home dark.

As he walked quietly into the living room, he was startled by Stan sitting and waiting for him.

“I know you said you probably wouldn't be home until pretty late, but it's four in the morning.” His tone was stern, though laced with worry.

“I-I… I got caught up in something, that's all.” Ford purposefully pulled his turtleneck up to hide the bruising left by Bill. He couldn't look his twin in the eye.

_What am I **doing**?_

“Ford… if there's something going on, you can tell me.”

“No, I can't.” _That's against the rules._

Stan came closer to his twin, reaching to pull the collar back down. Ford smacked his hand away.

“Bro. Come on. Talk to me.”

“There's nothing to talk about, Stanley." There was a lot more venom than Ford had intended in that statement, but he had to admit that his twin could be overbearing sometimes.

Stanley backed away slightly, concern knitting his brows. “Is this about me? Just tell me that.”

“No. Not directly.” Ford eased his stance, but still couldn't look his brother in the eye. His fists clenched at his sides, tears threatening to spill. “You are involved, but it isn't about or because of you. This is… a me problem.”

Stan seemed to understand, opting to hold his brother as he began sobbing.

“You know that you can talk to me about anything. But if you don't want to, I won't make you.”

“Thank you, Stanley. I truly appreciate your concern.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mild self harm

Ford rolled out of his and Fiddleford's bed at first light. His body ached, the fabric of the bed spread chafing against wounds that only he and Bill would ever know the origin of. Wounds received in the throws of passion.

Fiddleford wrapped his arms around Ford's waist with a whine, attempting to keep him in bed.

“My beloved, I have work to do.”

“It's so early…” The southerner pulled himself close to Ford, his beard rubbing against the small of Ford's back. Ford winced at the contact it made with one of the more serious lacerations. He should probably bandage those soon. “Why d'ya gotta go so soon? You're warm…”

Ford let out a frustrated sigh as he pulled himself from Fiddleford's grip and wandered to the bathroom. He was surprised to find Stan also working on his own morning routine. Ford began to brush his teeth, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

“I'm guessin' you have more research today.”

“Mhm.”

“I need a break from tourists. Mind if I join you?”

Ford spat into the sink and rinsed out his mouth, taking in the request. “That would be inadvisable.”

“What?” Stan slotted his razor into the holder before shooting Ford a sad look, clearly disappointed. “I just thought maybe we could go on one of your crazy adventures together. You know, like when we were kids?”

“Absolutely not.” Ford spun his brother around and ushered him out of the bathroom door. “I need to take a shower. Please leave me be.”

He all but slammed the door after Stan, and proceeded to just lean his head against it. What was he doing? God, none of this was right. He turned on the shower and got in, letting the hot water rush over the lacerations in his flesh. The burn felt nice. It felt right.

Ford had trouble telling whether the moisture on his face was water or tears. He realized he was sobbing quietly. Nails dug into the flesh of his forearm, and he bit his lip. He was doing what he had to do. Everybody was safe because of his actions. Their lives were normal.

Ford looked down at the drain, the water pink from his arm. He watched the liquid corkscrew past the metal, which caught his stray hairs.

A knocking came to the door. “Great Uncle Ford? You've been in there for like an hour, are you okay?”

When had the water run cold? “I'm fine, be out in a few minutes!” He turned off the water and walked over to the medicine cabinet. He looked like shit. Heavy bags, a pale complexion… he looked deathly ill.

First course of action: treat his wounds. He retrieved the necessary components from the cabinet, soaking a cotton ball in peroxide. The sharp sting of the liquid on his open wounds caused him to gasp loudly. He could hardly reach some of them, but cleaning was necessary. Who knows what bacteria coat any given part of Bill's anatomy?

A simple bandaging and covering with his sweater would suffice for the time being.

Ford limped down the stairs to the living room, any sense of solace leaving him at the sight of his twin's dejected body language. Slumped into his chair, flipping television channels.

“I'm heading out.”

“No breakfast?”

Ford bit at the inside of his cheek as he fished for a response. “The fae like discussing things over meals. I'm joining them for breakfast.”

Why did he assume that shitty lie would work? He could read exactly what Stan was really thinking.

“Look, I'm involved in something very sensitive at the moment, and I don't want to put anybody in unnecessary danger.”

“I get it. Just go.”

“Why the long face, Stanford?” Ford couldn't tell if Bill's tone was genuine concern or condescending. He desperately needed a vent piece, though.

“Just… feeling a little trapped.” Ford locked the bubble up tight, just in case Stanley had attempted to follow him. “Can't talk about life outside the bubble, you know?”

Bill cupped Ford into his hands, for once not squeezing the life from him. “Aw, are you worried about what will happen when they find out about you?”

“Of course I am! They're my family! I love them. If they knew… they certainly wouldn't love me.”

“I'll always love you, Fordsie.” Ford felt sick to his stomach. Why was he spilling his guts to this monster?

“Do you, really?”

“Of course I do. If I didn't, I would've just killed you as soon as the barrier went down.” Bill said it so matter-of-factly. Like it was just _okay_. Like it was _normal_.

It wasn't normal. Nothing was normal. Nothing was right. He started to sob openly, not too sure of why.

“Whoa, okay, I clearly struck a nerve. Um.” Bill seemed to take a breath before looking down at Ford. “Hey… let's just… let go of it? Have you eaten? Food will make you feel better. That's how you meat bags work, right?”

Having breakfast. With Bill. In the penthouse suite. How did Ford ever get to this point? He wondered why Bill even bothered to care about his feelings. He never did before. It made no sense. He haphazardly picked at the alien cuisine in front of him. Some sort of omelet using an egg from somewhere else in the cosmos.

Ford curled up in his chair, hugging his knees. Why wasn't Bill angry at his insubordinate behavior? Did he actually care about him? Or was this a front?

“Fordsie?”

Ford ground his fork into his food, the poor bandaging on his wounds rubbing them wrong and filling him with pain.

“You look tense.”

“Oh, you don't say?” He bit his lip, feeling a rage and anguish bubble up inside of him. This whole thing was stupid. He couldn't talk to the people he loved about his problems. He was in pain. And some part of him enjoyed that.

But what was the worst was he couldn't tell if Bill's concern was genuine or not.

“Fordsie, talk to me.”

“What is there to _talk about_?!” Ford stabbed his fork into the table, feeling a distortion over his face, one stronger than any thus far. He wondered how he would look in a mirror.

“Whoa, okay, let's just… calm down.” Bill appeared behind him, and Ford was surprised to feel a gentle massage. “You're my friend, Ford. My right hand man.”

“Since when do you care about anyone?” Ford begrudgingly leaned into the gesture, his sore muscles thankful for the relief.

“Ford, I just show my love differently than your stupid meat bag psychology.” Bill moved Ford's sweater up to reveal the bandages, somewhat saturated with blood from the open wounds. “Oh, I really did a number on you last night.”

Ford curled up a bit tighter, a heat to his face. They may hurt uncomfortably now, but he knew that he enjoyed receiving them.

_You're disgusting, Stanford._

Ford felt Bill properly bandage his wounds before he spoke. “You have regenerative powers, why not just heal them?”

Ford’s face grew redder, and an amused glint hit Bill's eye.

“Oh. Oh, I get it! You like our romps, so you can't bring yourself to erase them! That is hilarious.”

“Shut. Up.”

Bill's laughter hit a point in Ford's brain where he just wanted to run away. He started to sob quietly, tugging at his hair so hard that Bill could hear some strands just snapping. Then came a sigh, and a gesture he never would have envisioned Bill capable of:  
A genuine hug.

“Hey. Let's go do whatever you want to do today.”

Ford felt confusion at the suggestion. What did he want to do? He didn't even know.

“Hey, you hate the government. Wanna go destroy the white house? I specifically left it for you!” The feelings welling up at Bill gently poking his nose reminded Ford of something simpler.

A cool summer day in 1980, dozing in the woods. Feelings of discovery and curiosity, genuine laughter.

Fiddleford found Ford in the woods near the shack, sobbing incoherently. He was curled into a tight ball, holding himself close.

“Hun?”

Ford refused to look up, knowing full well his less-than-human attributes were on display. He only mustered a pathetic “Please leave me alone.”

“Stanford… what’s wrong?” Fidds took a seat on the grass beside him, leaning against the same tree.

“Nothing.”

“Ford, I've known ya for like… forty years. It ain't nothin'.”

“Just. Don't look at me.”

Fidds completely disregarded the request, reaching over and tilting his chin up.

“Stanford… what happened?” Ford flinched as his distorted face, the numerous eyes fading in and out of existence, was gently rubbed at to rid him of his blood tears.

“It doesn't involve you. Pay no mind.” How could he explain the monster he'd become? The fact that he was once again falling for a monster, knowing who he is and what he's done?

“Hun. Your problems always involve the people who love you.”

Ford felt like he was going to throw up. The anxiety, the guilt, the confusion. If Fiddleford knew, it would shatter him.

He sucked in a hard breath, shaking away the distortion in his soul. “I'll be okay, darling.”


	4. Chapter 4

Ford stretched out in the grass in front of the mystery shack. It had been a few days since he'd left the confines of his utopia. He needed some time to just stop thinking. About the apocalypse, about Bill…

Bill.

Somehow, even after a full forty-eight hours of not thinking about him, he still sent excited shivers down Ford's spine. He turned his head to look at his twin, beginning to doze in the sun.

“Stanley?”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you for some advice?”

Stan propped himself up on an elbow to better see his brother. “Hit me.”

“Well…” Ford couldn't talk about life outside the bubble. But, perhaps he could talk about people, so long as he left out specifics. A few white lies should cover his tracks nicely.

“Spit it out, bro.”

“You know I love Fiddleford.”

“Uh huh.” Stan thought that maybe the nerd was about to propose to the other nerd. He would never admit it, but he would be so happy for his brother if that were to happen.

“But… recently an… old flame is in town.”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

This just got a whole lot more interesting. Stan sat up fully with a smile. “Ford, sit up, spill the details. I need to know everything."

Ford obliged, taking a deep breath as he sat up. “Well, he's crass. And kind of an asshole. But he's… sweet? In his own way. I dunno. He has a way of making me feel… important. Special.”

Ford hugged his knees, and that's when Stan could see it: that stupid smile. His brother was smitten.

“So how long ago were you guys a thing? What ended it? Come on, fill me in.”

Ford looked to the blue sky, tongue in cheek. He looked back to his brother to answer, and saw somebody approaching from the trees.

Somebody who should definitely not be there.

Although his form was human to the untrained eye, only one entity could wear _that_ much yellow.

“H- I- WILLIAM!” Ford bolted to a standing position at Bill's presence, watching the demon tip his hat with his cane in greeting. “What the _fuck_ are you doing here?” he greeted through a smile of gritted teeth and a forced laugh.

Ford was so angry. So mad. How dare Bill enter _his_ escape.

“Oh, Fordsie… haven't seen you in a few days, so I thought I'd check up on you!” The response was accompanied by a poke to the nose and an arm around the waist. “Oh, and you must be his _twin_! He's said so many things about you.”

Stan smirked at his brother's clear discomfort and sat up tall. “Only good things, I hope?”

“Oh, it’s mostly complaints, but that's just how brothers gush~!” Bill turned, his coattails spinning around with him, and sauntered off inside with a hand waving off his statement, leaving the twins on the front lawn.

“Wow, he really is kind of an asshole.”

“He has a good side in there somewhere, I swear.” Ford walked after _William_ , as to not let him terrorize the household too much.

With Fiddleford making breakfast in the kitchen and Dipper and Mabel working on their respective hobbies at the table, the whole family was soon greeted by the sight of the very perky blonde and an extremely disgruntled Ford.

“Hun, who's your friend?”

Bill cut Ford off before he could explain, “Oh, just an old boyfriend of his!” An unreadable emotion sparked across Fiddleford's face as he cracked another egg into a bowl.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yes!” Bill grabbed Ford by the waist again and pulled him closer with a smile. “We've been hanging out a _lot_ since I've been in town! So I got worried when he hadn't contacted me in a few days!”

Ford could sense an unearthly rage boiling within Fiddleford, and let out a nervous laugh. “William? Other room? Need to speak with you? Privately?”

“Oh, of course, _smart guy_. Don't keep me waiting~!” Fiddleford threw an accusatory glare at Ford, prompting him to follow after like a dejected puppy.

“Bill, what the _hell_ are you _doing_?” Ford's hushed whisper caused the demon to smile. “You can't just- I- This is _my_ space. You do _not_ belong here."

“On the contrary, pet, I belong anywhere I please. This is a free country, no?”

That smug face made Ford want to set the house on fire with Bill in it. “The bubble. Is _my_. Space.”

“Correction. It is your family's space. To be safe from the chaos that we weave outside. Like… a terrarium for meat sacks.” Bill spoke in a very animated manner, smile never leaving his face. “Although, I do have to say, this look suits me. Maybe we could… _mess around_ with it?”

Ford stammered, lost for words. “We are not _messing around_ in the bubble. This is a place of _sanctity_. Of _innocence_. There are _children_ here!”

“Ah, come on, _Fordsie_ ~.” Ford felt a tendril from beneath Bill's coat start to wrap around his waist. The space between their faces was suffocatingly small. “We won't get cau-"

“William, was it?” Fiddleford’s unamused voice brought the ordeal to a close, and prompted Fird to look at him as he leaned against the door frame. “Since you're here, would you like some food?”

He jumped at how quickly Bill turned to answer, neck seemingly cracking at the force. “Of _course_ I would! _Thank you_ for inviting me! I had no idea _you_ owned this house!”

Fiddleford's face contorted into one of pure loathing, the corners of his mouth turning up as he let out a single forced laugh. “Well, aren't you _funny_? Stanford, a moment alone?”

Ford felt a wave of relief wash over him as Bill left, but then swallowed at the absolute disdain on Fiddleford's face. “What is it, darli-"

“You've been lying, Stanford.”

Ford felt a wave of panic rush over him. Of all the ways his family could find out the gravity of his lies, this is the one he would prefer the least.

“Your ‘research' was really just going and meeting up with an old boyfriend? Really? I thought I meant more to ya than that.”

Ford bit his lip and couldn't look Fiddleford in the eye. “I just… I’m going through some things internally here.” _An excuse? What are you, twelve?_ Ford sighed as Fiddleford’s expression grew more tired. “He was never supposed to show up.”

“What, did ya just _never_ officially call it off with him?!” Fiddleford scoffed and threw up his hands, annoyed. “God, your lack of common sense and self respect… it's the portal project all over again.”

Ford let his eyes lock onto a stray fiber in the rug. God, everything was falling out from under him. “I'm sorry.” Meek. Pathetic.

“Breakfast is on the table.” With nothing more, Fiddleford walked away.

Eating together as a family, plus Bill? Not a very good idea. Tension was hanging in the silence as silverware scraped and clinked on plates. Ford was sat beside Bill with Fidds across from him. Every time he looked up to gauge Fiddleford's mood, he was met with a dark glare. He couldn't tell of it was aimed at him or Bill, but if looks could kill…

“ _Fordsie_ , things have changed so much! It's almost like you aren't the impossible hermit I met in the eighties!” Bill slung an arm over his shoulders, causing him to sigh.

The kids and Stan promptly finished their food before scurrying off to let the three of them eat in peace. But Fiddleford wasn't interested, deciding to leave.

“Yeah, that's right, Glasses! Go talk to your son so we can chat alone!”

Fiddleford stopped just short of the door, and that was when Ford realized: he never brought Tate into the bubble. How did it make up for that?

“He's been missing for weeks. If you hadn't been off cheating on me, you would have known that, _Stanford_.”

Ford couldn't believe he overlooked somebody so crucial. He caught Bill's smug expression.

“Go have fun with your new toy, Ford. I'm going to look for our- _my_ son.” As Fidds left the room, Ford's heart felt like it was stopping. Oh, god, his safe space was crumbling apart.

Fuck.

 _FUCK_.

“Hey, Fordsie?” Bill's voice sounded far away as Ford began to break.

His heart suddenly sped up. Every attempt to suck in air caused his surroundings to flash to ruins. He could hear the surprised yelps of his family in the next room. The ground felt like it was shaking.

When Bill took a closer look at Ford, he was happy to see his full demon form. Tears of blood ran from all nineteen of Ford's eyes on his twenty sided head. His slack-jawed expression exposed his fangs, his six fingers elongated into claws.

“Wellwellwell! You've unlocked your full potential!”

Ford looked out the window to find the world literally crumbling. The sky was orange, the grass dying, gravity lifting.

It was over.

Everything he wanted to protect was over.

When Ford came to, he was in the penthouse suite, restrained to the bed he was resting in. Looking out the window, he could see the bubble was cracked in several places, but seemingly reinforced by Bill's powers. It also sported Stan's fez symbol instead of Ford's hand.

“Oh, you're okay. I thought maybe your mortal body didn't make it through the transformation.”

Bill floated down to him, in his normal form, and gently pet the hair-like shadows around Ford's head.

“The bubble!!” Ford attempted to bolt, only to be caught on his restraints and fall back onto the mattress.

“Calm down, I fixed it. Nobody inside will even remember I was there or what happened.”

“I have to go back and-"

“No.” Bill pressed Ford back against the bed unceremoniously, his head smacking the frame. “I think you've spent more than enough time there as of late. This is an intervention.”

Ford let his tears fall, looking over at the bubble. “I'm sorry.”


End file.
